Little Things
by DangerMouse
Summary: Poor Owen. Sometimes, his life really sucks. Even he needs a reminder every now and then as to why he stayed behind.


A/N: "_The Goliath Chronicles_? What's _The Goliath Chronicles_?" In other words, everything after "Hunter's Moon" never happened in my universe, not that it really matters for this story. Also, have read "The Gargoyles Saga" but this isn't that universe either. Just set sometime in the future after the end of "Hunter's Moon." Enjoy!

Little Things

By: DangerMouse

Owen realized, upon reflection, that teaching Alexander telekinesis at such a young age was probably not the best of ideas.

Looking despondently into the mirror above his dresser, Owen brushed a glob of strained peas out of his hair with his good hand, letting it hit the ground with "smack." He sighed, taking off his glasses and dropping them onto the desk as he made his way to the adjoining bathroom. Loosening his tie, the blond man reached down, turning on the shower before shrugging out of his clothes, letting them crumple in a pile on the floor. A neat-knick by nature, Owen forced his fastidiousness to the back burner in exchange for the immediate need a of a hot shower to wash away what was the remainder of young Alex's dinner from his person. Owen grimaced as he stood under the shower's spray, looking down at the drain as what looked like mushy carrots swirled away.

"Definitely too early to learn telekinesis," he muttered, then reached for the shampoo.

* * * * * *

Twenty minutes later, a much cleaner and more relaxed Owen Burnett walked out of his bathroom and into his bedroom with only a towel slung easily around his hips and his clothes in his arms. Pulling open his dresser and tossing the food-covered articles into the laundry basket at the bottom, Owen picked out his nightclothes - a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants.

"Business clothes should have as few buttons," he mused in a very un-Owenish manner before he could stop himself. Frowning at his lapse, Owen put his nightclothes on one-handed in a mildly impressive acrobatic display. Giving his aching left shoulder a firm rub, he walked to his large four-poster bed, pulling back its satin sheets and collapsing on it with a slight flourish. Owen sighed happily, turning off his lamp and tucking the sheets under his chin. It had been a long day of taking care of and teaching Alexander, as well as a number of very stressful business meeting and appointments, and he was looking forward to a nice, uninterrupted night of sleep.

Three minutes later, the intercom by his head buzzed.

"Owen?' came the some what tinny voice. "You awake?"

Barely restraining a curse from dripping from his lips, Owen rolled over, angrily mashing down the intercom button with his left fist. "Yes, Mr. Xanatos," he replied, in a voice that hardly reflected his mood.

"Excellent," said Xanatos, sounding far too upbeat given the late hour. "I was just thinking about the Techerom merger. I've decided I would like the spreadsheets, notes from the last meeting, itemized budget projections, itineraries and schedules for the next two months, and the current contract agreements with their rough drafts by tomorrow morning, rather than on Friday. Do you think you could arrange that?"

Owen raised his head from where he'd buried it in his pillow to muffle the screams that threatened to break free from his throat. Tomorrow morning? _Tomorrow morning?_ Was that man insane? It _was_ tomorrow morning! That amount of paper pushing amounted to at least twelve hours of work! A merger this important required his direct supervision and, as a result, he ended up doing most of the work himself. "Tomorrow morning" was a physical impossibility, by any stretch of the imagination.

"Of course, sir," Owen heard himself reply in a calm, focused tone of voice.

"Wonderful, Owen!" said an annoyingly chipper Xanatos. "See you in the morning, then."

Owen heard the sounds of a short scuffle and realized the call was coming from the Xanatos' bedroom.

"If you could check on Alexander while you're up, that would be great, too," came Fox's highly amused voice.

"Of course, ma'am," Owen said, already putting on his glasses, barely noticing as the red intercom light blinked out. Looking over at his closet, Owen debated changing back into his suit. One had to keep up appearances, after all. Still, he was only going to his office down the hall after he checked on Alex and was unlikely to run into anybody. Noting the clock read half-past two, he knew that Detective Maza would be at work and the Clan would no doubt patrolling, with the exception of Hudson. Hudson was nothing to worry about - during the time when Alexander was teething, the older gargoyle had seen Owen in much worse throughout the night while he remained at the castle while the other's patrolled.

"Far too many buttons," Owen decided, reaching out to the end of his closet for a comfortable flannel shirt he kept for late night activities, such as midnight feedings, investigating strange noises, or, apparently, working on impossible projects in the middle of the night.

It was ridiculous. "A Lifetime of service, indeed," Owen heard himself muttering as he pulled on the flannel. Sometimes, especially at times like these, he wondered why he ever agreed to stay here. Why, at this very moment, he could be running along the shores of Avalon with his brothers and sisters, pulling pranks on the Three, giving the Banshee laryngitis, even driving Oden into hibernation! A land full of food and song, where nothing had to be done by the next morning and business meetings were non-existent - his own slice of paradise, the only Heaven he would ever know. But he threw it all away for a self-involved business man who forgot his limitations more often than not, a clan of gargoyles that didn't really like him all that much, and a handful of other humans that liked him even less.

He wondered if it was worth it.

"What's done cannot be undone," Owen said to himself, shaking his head in irritation. Without further hesitation, he stepped into his Birkenstocks by his bed, suddenly not caring at all if anyone saw him so casually dressed, and walked out of his room.

The hallway was chilly but well lit, a warm, golden light emanating from the electric torches flickering on the stone walls. Alexander's room was not far from his own, only a short walk around the corner. Owen opened the door slowly, careful not to let the wooden plaque reading "Alex's Abode!" in big, bright, friendly letters clack against the door.

The room was dark, the only light coming from a small glowing orb on the dresser that acted as a night-light, going through the full rainbow of colors - a gift from a very doting grandmother. Owen walked into the room, closing the door behind him, letting his eyes slide across the room away from the globe to the crib.

The _empty_ crib.

Owen cursed, rushing over, looking down, and furtively hoping that the crib's missing occupant would somehow reappear. His eyes fell on the high bars of the crib and he cursed again, this time himself.

"Too young to learn levitation as well," he growled, then forced himself to relax, closing his eyes and opening his mind.

Owen let his consciousness wander through the castle, scanning each room, looking for a familiar mind. He scanned quickly, going to the playroom, the gardens, the upstairs hallways, the TV room, the kitchen, and...

"Got you," Owen said, his eyes snapping open, glowing slightly, then turned on his heal and walked out of the room.

* * * * * *

"...And so, early the next evening, just after the first meal, Goliath and I took the young hatchlings up to the top of the battlements to give 'em their first flying lesson," Hudson was saying from his comfortable easy chair in the Great Hall, trying to sooth the young boy on his lap. Alexander was listening intently, but his expression was troubled and he kept tugging on Hudson's beard.

"Do we have to tell the next part?" Lexington implored from his space on the floor, not far from the old gargoyle. A mechanical device of some kind was sitting in pieces around the green gargoyle - something he had taken apart to see how it worked, but seemed to be having trouble getting back together again.

"Are you kidding?" Brooklyn asked with a laugh. The red gargoyle was also lounging nearby, Angela by his side, having come back early from patrol. "This is the best part!"

"Maybe from your perspective," Lex grumbled, poking a piece of his machine with a screwdriver.

"Why, what happened?" Angela asked, obviously amused.

"Well, I'll tell ya', if ya' let me finish," Hudson said, smiling. The three gargoyles took the hint and quieted up, listening intently to Hudson's smooth accented voice as he resumed telling the story. "Well, it 'twas a wee bit windier than we thought, but it 'twas gettin' late in the season and the hatchlings had ta' be flying before the first snowfall. So, we picked up the first little lad and," Hudson chuckled a little, making an exaggerated throwing motion with his hands, "we tossed him over the edge."

"Did he fly?" Alex asked, his eyes wide.

"Oh yeah," Brooklyn said with a little smirk. "He was real graceful."

"Hey, it was my first time!" Lexington protested, frowning. "And it was really, really windy that day."

"Flying... no," Hudson told Alexander, ignoring the continued banter between the two rookery brothers, "but he did learn how to swim rather quickly when he fell inta' the moat."

Angela laughed and Alexander smiled at that. Even Lexington grinned a little at the memory. "We should tell Brooklyn's First Flight story next," said the little green gargoyle. "It explains a lot about his personality."

"Why?" Alexander asked, curious.

Lex grinned at his rookery brother. "Because he fell on his head."

"Hey, really windy out, remember?" Brooklyn said, holding up his hands to ward off any further comments, turning at the sound Angela's muffled laughter. "What about your First Flight, Angela?"

The female gargoyle sobered up quickly and averted her eyes. "Oh," she began evasively, "that's really not an interesting story."

"Now we _have_ to hear this," Brooklyn said, sitting up.

"Yeah, Angie, tell us!" Lexington added, also getting attentive.

"No, no, no," she said, but the other two kept on asking, all three of them laughing together. Hudson watched the antics of the three youngsters, smiling a little, then turned a concerned eye to the boy on his lap.

"Feeling better, Alex?" he asked the little boy softly, who frowned and shook his head, rubbing his hand across his forehead.

"I'm still scared," he replied in a very tiny voice, looking up at Hudson with big, solemn eyes.

"We could go wake up your parents," Hudson offered, "or Owen." Alex just shook his head again.

"They're very tired," he whispered.

"I'm sure they'd understand if you had a nightmare, lad," Hudson told him.

"Maybe," Alexander said, not looking convinced. "But..." Suddenly the boy stopped and turned his head, looking at point well outside the walls of the room, a tiny smile on his face.

"You okay, Alex?" Lexington asked, noticing with a start the change of expression on his face. Brooklyn and Angela looked worried as well.

"Uncle Owen's coming," the boy said excitedly. True to his word, a slightly damp and disheveled Owen Burnett walked through the entrance to the Great Hall moments later, wearing an outfit the three youngest gargoyles present could never have imagined him in.

"Evening, lad," Hudson said, giving him a thankful look, while at the same time helping a squirming Alexander out of his lap and onto the floor.

"Good evening, Hudson," he said with a nod to the older gargoyle, then turned and nodded to each of the other three in turn. "Brooklyn, Angela, Lexington, good evening."

"Hey," Lexington replied, an odd expression on his face. The other two only nodded.

"And Alexander," Owen concluded, looking down at the little boy who now stood right in front of him, arms raised in his "pick me up" gesture. In one easy movement, Owen reached down and lifted up the tiny red-head, balancing him on his stone arm underneath, cradling him with his good arm around his middle, while Alex looped his arms around his neck.

"Uncle Owen..." Alexander said quietly, closing his eyes and snuggling into his chest, hugging him for all he was worth.

"What brings you out of bed this time of night?" he asked his little charge. Alexander pulled back a ways so he could look into Owen's ice blue eyes, the same color as his own.

"I had a bad dream," he whispered, eyes wide in fear, his little body trembling. Owen walked with Alexander in his arms over to a large plushy couch that rested perpendicular to Hudson's chair and sat down, Alex arraigning himself in Owen's lap so he could hug him even tighter.

"Why didn't you come to me?" he asked him. Alex looked at him again, then placed his hand on Owen's forehead.

"You were tired," he explained, then touched his own forehead. "I could feel it."

Owen placed a quick kiss on the top Alex's head. "You can always come to me," he told him, hugging him back. "No matter what." Alexander smiled a little, then buried his head back into Owen's t-shirt.

"We tried to help him, lad," Hudson said to Owen, giving Alexander a fond look. "He wandered in here about an hour ago, but said he didn't want to wake up his parents or disturb you."

"Yeah," Lexington said with a little laugh. "We've been telling him stories. It seemed to calm him down a little."

"I appreciate all of you efforts," Owen said, gracing them with a little smile of his own. "And I am grateful for how much you all care for Alexander."

"What are you doing awake this time of night anyway?" Brooklyn asked.

Owen resisted the urge to sigh. "Mr. Xanatos has asked me to get some papers together for a meeting we have early on Friday for his review in the morning. I was planning on going to my office, after I checked on Alexander, of course. This work is probably going to take me all night."

"No," Alexander said suddenly, stiffening in his arms and pulling back to look at Owen. His eyes spoke clearly enough.

"Work that I can just as easily do from here," Owen said soothingly, feeling Alexander relax again as he reached out with his good hand up to rub the boy's back. Owen looked over at the green gargoyle. "Lexington, would you mind running to my office and getting my laptop and briefcase for me?"

"No problem, Owen," Lex replied, then bounded out of the room.

"Flannel?" Brooklyn finally asked after Lexington had gone, looking up and down at Owen's outfit.

"Contrary to popular belief, I do not sleep in a business suit," Owen replied dryly. He heard Hudson chuckle.

"Xanatos makes you work so much," Angela said morosely. "I don't understand how you can put up with it."

"Yeah, hardly seems worth it sometimes," Brooklyn added, unknowingly echoing Owen's own stressed-out thoughts earlier in the evening.

Owen smiled again, looking down at the little boy sleeping contentedly in his lap, raising his hand to rub the back of Alex's head, the fine red hair feather-soft on his fingers.

"It's worth it," he finally answered, feeling Alex's steady breathing against his chest. "The little things always make it worth it."

Hudson gave a warm smile, watching Owen cradle Alex in his arms, the little one finally falling asleep. "Aye," he said quietly, not wanting to wake the boy, "that they do, lad. That they do."

~The End~

A/N 2: I thought this might come up in the reviews, so here's my explinations: 

Review from Dragonchan 

That was really, really cute. It also made me think a bit. I first thought that you were portraying Xanatos a bit unfairly.

After re-reading it after I wrote it, I was thinking about that, too. I love Xanatos and I love the relationship he has with Owen. But, I think it would be easy for him to get careless where Owen's workload is concerned. Like you said, if you have someone doing everything for you without complaint, (which Owen is bound not to do), then I think it's possible for him to get carried away sometimes and not even realize it. Now, that's not to say he doesn't appreciate Owen for all he does, and I'm sure David is a very hard worker himself, but still... Personal Assistant to David Xanatos AND Fey teacher to Alexander (keeping in mind that Puck seems to wear out easily when he uses his powers a lot - in "The Mirror" after he turned the whole city into Gargoyles, he was unconscious for a few minutes)... Poor guy's got to get exhausted and stressed out every now and again.

snip You have to wonder if our favorite multi-millionaire thinks of Mr. Burnett as Owen-the-person-who-is-my-assistant, Owen-the-assistant, or Owen-who-is-in-fact-Puck.

Oh, probably a combination of all three. I've always imagined he thinks of Owen just as "OWEN," the do-all, go-getter, central support pillar in his life and business. I mean, let's face it: Owen drives the car, works for the company, serves the food, helps raise Alexander, teaches Alexander, more than likely arranges everything that needs to be done (like castle repair, security, fighting off the press, that sort of thing) all on his own. With the exception of flying the helicopter (a task he probably finally got to give up after David married Fox), Owen does EVERYTHING! And he never, ever complains.

I bet Mr. X probably pulls that kind of late night stunt a lot. 

Yeah, I think all bosses do. Mine certainly does. ^_^


End file.
